


Walk With Me

by Sammki



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:16:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8439985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammki/pseuds/Sammki
Summary: "Six weeks."
--
Rent a haunted house, James said. It'll be fun, James said.Thomas begs to differ.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have not posted anything in almost two years holy shit  
> This fic has been kicking my ass for the past week and I end up finishing it an hour before Halloween ends  
> Enjoy :)

_"Put it down."_

* * *

 "Six weeks."

Thomas eyes the newspaper distrustfully. James has a point, however much Thomas hates to admit it. The advertisement promotes one hell of a deal. Not that it really matters to Thomas--he's from a relatively wealthy family and could buy a house in any high end neighborhood if he so chose. No, he's quite content with his current apartment. It's nothing special and quite modest if he's being honest, but it's _his._

Nonetheless, James is still right. They need to leave town, and fast. This apartment would make a good in-between home until they find a more permanent place far away from here. The rent is super low, considering the building itself. It is, for all intents and purposes, perfect.

Thomas looks up at James again. "It's nice," he concedes warily.

James rolls his eyes. "Great priorities there."

"...Almost too nice," Thomas continues. He picks up the newspaper and points to the price on the advertisement, turning the page toward James. "The whole house. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms. Decent neighborhood. Close to campus. It's the perfect place for students, and yet--" Thomas pushes the newspaper closer to James "--only five hundred eighty dollars per month rent. Convenient, no?"

James sighs and shoves the newspaper away. "Normally I'd say you're just being paranoid, but we don't have many options right now. If I were you I wouldn't be questioning the _price."_

Thomas doesn't respond. He thinks.

"Either way, I figured you'd say something like that, so I've already taken the liberty of talking to the landlord."

Thomas snorts. "Of course you did."

James glares at him. "I asked him why tenants weren't lining up around the block for this place. Want to hear his bullshit answer?"

Leaning forward expectantly, Thomas nods.

"He said the place was haunted."

There's a pause while Thomas waits for James to start laughing at his own joke. When that doesn't happen, Thomas prompts, "You're joking."

"I'm not." His voice is dead serious.

Thomas' eyebrows shoot up. A smile breaks on his face. "It's a good thing neither of us is afraid of ghosts, then."

* * *

  _"I can't."_

* * *

 For a large city, the neighborhood their new house is in is not very busy. Cars are packed all along the street on their block, but there seems to be no activity in any of the houses Thomas and James drive by. Even the colours of the houses are various dull shades of brown and grey.

The house itself inconspicuously sits right in the middle of the block. There isn't really anything to distinguish it from the rest of the houses surrounding it: medium sized lawn, two stories, garage with driveway, a single tree in the yard. The only difference is that this house is not cluttered with cars.

The inside of the house is quite nice. The entrance hall is large, with a closet to the left of the door. Farther in is the wide entrance to the living room, next to which are the stairs leading to the second floor. Straight ahead the hallway splits into two doorways, one leading to the kitchen and the other leading to a dining room. The right wall holds a bathroom and an office. The entire place seems to have been meticulously cleaned.

Thomas likes the house, as much as he hates to admit it. It's a quiet neighborhood. The house itself is very well kept. There isn't a single speck of dust. It's almost too good to be true, but Thomas isn't about to walk out on a _technicality._

The only complaint he can think of is the draft.

The occasional frosty breeze sets Thomas on edge. It isn't as though there is a single place in a room where he feels it. In that case, he'd just be able to avoid it. No, it's almost as if it follows him through the house, waiting until he's let his guard down and disappearing immediately after. Hell, he's felt it even when his entire body is under the covers at night.

He has considered asking James about it, but James hasn't seemed to notice it even when Thomas is sitting right next to him, so Thomas forgoes the subject for the time being.

This goes on for about one week.

Thomas is simply rounding the corner from the living room into the kitchen when a man walks right into him. Literally; the man walks _straight through him._

Thomas gasps at the sharp feeling of ice as the man ends up behind him. Shivers are wracking his body and his lungs actually hurt. Thomas stands frozen to the spot clutching his ribs before he finally gets his legs working enough to turn around and face the stranger. He only catches a glimpse of raven dark hair before the figure turns into the living room.

When Thomas goes to follow, the man is gone.

For a moment, all Thomas can do is stand there and stare. Then, with trembling hands, he reaches into his pocket and manages to pull out his phone to call James. Swallowing thickly, he raises the phone to his ear. "Jemmy? I think we have a problem."

* * *

  _"Yes, you can."_

* * *

 "You're joking."

"I'm not!"

James sighs and leans forward to prop his elbows up on his knees, rubbing his temples. "Thomas, you don't believe in ghosts."

"I didn't," Thomas agrees, "but you weren't here. You didn't see what I saw. It was just..." He trails off, trying to think of how to describe it. His hand waves uselessly in the air. "...it was real. I don't know how else to explain it."

James just stares at him. The room is silent for a moment. "You're serious about this."

Thomas throws his hands up in the air. "Give the man a prize!"

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" James asks. "We can't just _leave._ Where do you think we'd go? Especially now. Need I remind you we don't exactly have a lot of options at the moment?"

Thomas runs his hands through his hair. "I don't know. I mean, you're probably right--the fuck am I saying? Of course you're right, you're always right--I'm just making a big deal out of what is probably nothing. Ghosts aren't real. God, I'm such an _idiot--"_

James lays a hand on Thomas' knee. Thomas glances up at his friend, his eyes wild. "Tell you what," James says, "we'll stay here through the next month or so. If nothing happens, then nothing happens. If something _does_ happen, we leave."

"Jemmy--" Thomas protests, but James cuts him off.

"If I see anything strange, then we're getting the _fuck_ out of dodge. You hear me?"

Thomas just nods mutely.

* * *

  _"I have to do this."_

* * *

 James sees the man three days later. To Thomas' horror, it only serves to make James more curious. "I think I know him," James explains. That doesn't make Thomas feel any better; if anything, it makes him feel worse. He doesn't let James know, though. He just smiles and nods as if he knows what the hell his friend is talking about.

"I don't know," James continues, "I just feel like I know him from somewhere. You know what I mean? We can't leave now."

Thomas just smiles and nods.

* * *

  _"No you don't."_

* * *

 "James!" Thomas bellows from the front door. Standing outside in front of him, Aaron Burr winces.

"Nice to see you too," Aaron snarks, pushing around Thomas and forcing his way into the front hall.

Thomas still stands at the door and stares at Aaron. "Okay," he begins once he can force himself to speak, "not that I'm not thrilled to see you--really, I am, trust me--what the _hell_ are you doing on our doorstep?"

Aaron turns back and faces Thomas. "James called me," he says. At that moment, the man in question trots down the stairs to greet their visitor. "Isn't that right, Madison?" Thomas whirls around to glare at James. _You invited him over?_ he mouths furiously.

James simply shrugs. "You know as well as I do that Aaron's the biggest skeptic around. If either of us think there's a ghost here, I'm damn sure Aaron can prove us wrong."

Thomas' shoulders slump as he swings the door shut, because even he can acknowledge that James has a point. Even so, has James completely lost his _mind?_ Bringing the three of them back together is practically signing their own death warrants.

Aaron smirks at Thomas and walks into the living room. Thomas goes to follow him, but is stopped by James' hand firm on his shoulder. "I know you think this is a bad idea," he murmurs. "Believe me, so do I. But we both know something strange is going on here, and I wasn't about to invite the Schuylers or Lafayette or any of his friends over. I'm sure you agree with me on that." He waits until Thomas nods before he continues. "Aaron is the best we've got in this situation. Let's just wait it out and see what happens."

Thomas sighs heavily and doesn't respond immediately. He glances at James and sees the shorter man staring at him expectantly. Almost... hopefully. Thomas sighs again and nods. "Fine," he concedes. "We'll do this your way. If crazy shit happens..."

"...we kick him out," James finishes with a nod. Thomas keeps watching him for a moment before his shoulders droop and he nods back. James drops his hand and ushers Thomas into the living room after Aaron.

* * *

_"Look at me."_

_"Stay back!"_

* * *

  _"This_ was not my idea," James protests.

Thomas had only gone out for groceries. He couldn't have been gone for more than fifteen minutes. Within that short period of time, the house had been flooded with all the people Thomas had not wanted over. He just stares at James helplessly as Angelica Schuyler glares at him. "First you two move out of town without telling us, moving into a haunted house, and you invite Aaron over for ghost hunting? I cannot believe you two."

"It's not a big house," James says in defense, holding his hands up. "We didn't exactly have the space--"

"'Not enough space' my _ass,"_ Peggy snaps as she bounces down the stairs. "This place is practically a mansion compared to John's crappy apartment."

"Hey!" John yells from the kitchen. "I take offense to that!"

"No one asked you, _mon cher,"_ Lafayette says, carrying a box of god-knows-what from the front door up the stairs. "I, for one, believe this will be quite the adventure. It has been too long since we have had some good excitement together." James shoots Thomas a look, but says nothing.

Thomas claps his hands loudly. "Need I remind you that y'all just _broke in_ to our home? Get the hell out!"

"There's no need for that, Thomas," Aaron interjects, emerging from the living room. "I let them in."

_"Why?"_

"I thought it would be fun," he says with a smirk. "Laf's right--we haven't had fun like this in weeks. It's about time we start hanging out as friends again."

Thomas suddenly feels muscly arms wrap around his torso. "C'mon, Tommy," Hercules rumbles, "live a little. Ghost hunting! This'll be so much fun!"

Thomas is not nearly as enthusiastic, but he ends up rolling his eyes and nodding, if only to have Hercules release him. He exchanges another look with James. This whole arrangement will be a disaster.

* * *

  _"You won't do it."_

* * *

 "Where the fuck is your thermostat?"

Thomas is roused from his sleep to a dark room with a slightly darker shape hovering over him. He can just barely make out the poof of curls that identifies the shape as John. "Wha--?" he slurs, still groggy from sleep.

"It's freezing in here," John whispers sharply. Thomas realizes just then how cold the room is and he burrows further down into the blankets. John tugs at the edge and pulls them down again. "Where's your thermostat?" he asks again.

"Dunno," Thomas mumbles. He pulls the blankets back up over his face. "Go find yourself more blankets if you're so fuckin' cold."

John hits him not-so-softly in the arm, causing Thomas to grunt in pain, then rolls off the bed and out of the room in search for either more blankets or his goddamned thermostat. Thomas honestly couldn't care less and draws his legs up to his chest in an effort to get warmer. He's almost drifted back off to sleep when a body lands square on top of him. The air is knocked from Thomas' lungs in a painful wheeze as John starts roughly shaking his shoulder and hissing something in his ear.

"Speak up," Thomas snips as he tries to make out the jumble of words John is throwing at him.

"There's _something_ in your fucking bathroom!"

Thomas is wide awake immediately, throwing John off his bed and darting out into the hallway. There's a huddle around the bathroom door--which is open ever so slightly, allowing a sliver of light to fall onto the floor--and Thomas can clearly see Maria holding what appears to be a crowbar. Eliza stands just behind her, peering over her shoulder. Lafayette is peering from around the door of another bedroom. _Wimp._

Thomas presses his way to the door and puts his hands to the wood. He almost can't keep his fingertips on it with how cold it is. He glances back over his shoulder to the group behind him, takes a deep breath, and pushes the door open. He blinks a few times, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, when he hears Eliza gasp behind him. Her hand is covering her mouth and her eyes are wide with shock.

Sitting on the toilet lid is the man Thomas had seen days earlier. He is leaning over what appears to be a book in his lap, his dark hair falling in his face. Thomas doesn't recognize him immediately, but he knows now what James was saying: there is something familiar about him.

Not willing to wait too long, Thomas clears his throat loudly. Angelica smacks his arm.

The man looks up, and Thomas feels his blood run cold. He closes his eyes, hoping it's just a trick of the light--at this point, he's willing to believe anything--but when he opens them those big brown eyes are still staring right at him. No one moves for a few moments.

Then Alexander smirks. "Hey, guys. Long time no see."

Thomas blinks a few more times. "I'm going back to sleep."

* * *

  _"What makes you so sure?"_

* * *

 "You're dead."

Alexander scoffs. "Observant as always, I see, Thomas. I'm gone for, what, five minutes and you're already losing your edge?"

Lafayette pops his head around the edge of the door to observe the commotion. The moment his eyes land on Alexander, his eyebrows fly up to his hairline. _"Merde,"_ he murmurs, pressing past Thomas and crouching on the ground in front of Alexander. _"Mon cher,_ is it really you?"

Alexander cracks a smirk. "It's really me, Laf." Lafayette raises his hands to cup Alexander's face, but his fingers end up phasing through the skin. The former staggers back with an undignified squeak.

"Y-You--!"

"I'm dead, remember?" It's at this point that Alexander rises from his seat and actually faces them all. His voice is surprisingly light, given the circumstances. "I'm not exactly tangible anymore, y'know."

Thomas glances down at his feet with morbid curiosity and sees that, sure enough, Alexander's shoes are not touching the floor but hovering not even an inch off the floor.

Lafayette scrambles to his feet and stares at Alexander. He looks down at his own hands, and Thomas notices that they're trembling. "You are so _cold."_

"Another perk of not being alive."

That's the moment that it seems to set in for them. Maria drops the crowbar and it clatters loudly to the floor, and the loud noise seems to jerk everyone out of their stupor. Thomas stands stock still as Peggy, Hercules, and James stagger away, Peggy dragging Eliza and Eliza dragging Maria with them. Angelica drifts back to join her sisters. Aaron and John have managed to join the huddle in the confusion, but all they can do is stare.

Meanwhile, Thomas is combing through his memories of the past few days. The constant drafts. The occasional odd noise. The encounter outside the living room. The overall _strange_ feeling this house gives him. They all start to fall into place like pieces of a puzzle, and suddenly everything seems to make sense. Not that it makes this any better, but at least it makes _some_ sort of sense.

Clapping directly in front of his face brings Thomas back down to earth. "You gonna say anything or are we just gonna stand here staring at each other for the rest of the night?" Alexander asks.

No one answers for a moment, and it's one of the most awkward silences Thomas has experienced. Then Peggy steps forward. "So you're a ghost, right?"

Alexander smiles. "That's right."

Peggy hesitates, then asks, "So what kind of ghosty things can you do?"

"Peggy!" Angelica snaps, but Alexander is just laughing. He steps--floats?--toward the mirror until he's close enough that simply the coldness of his presence fogs up the glass. With a mischievous glance at Peggy and the others, he raises a hand and mimes out writing on the fog. Thomas watches in awe as the words _HI PEGS :)_ appear scrawled out in big block letters. Peggy starts to laugh almost hysterically when he steps back and smirks. Her laughter seems to be contagious and before long it's spread to almost everyone else around the door.

The only one not joining in the laughter is Thomas. He finally manages to dislodge himself from where his feet were rooted to the floor and he steps forward to stand directly in front of Alexander. They're not touching--or whatever the equivalent for touching is with a ghost--but Thomas can still feel the cold radiating off of Alexander's small frame. He ignores the fact that James is probably glaring a hole into the back of his head, sucks in a deep breath and whispers, "Alexander."

For a moment, an emotion Thomas can't identify flashes across Alexander's face. Then it's gone and his eyes warm up and a small grin surfaces. "Thomas," he murmurs softly, and Thomas just _melts._

* * *

  _"You love me."_

* * *

 It's surprisingly easy to adjust to living with a ghost, Thomas finds over the next few days. The constant drafts from before are still constant and, if anything, more frequent now that they know it's just Alexander pissing them off. The whole 'ghost hunting' think fizzles out, which it was bound to do once the ghost in question just outs himself, but everyone that isn't James or Thomas just lingers at the house in the coming days, unwilling to leave now that they can talk to Alexander again.

John, Hercules, and Lafayette take the most advantage of this, occasionally with the help of Peggy. Alexander and his friends had been ruthless pranksters while the former was still alive. Being dead hasn't seemed to curb his mischief; Thomas believes it actually made him worse, since now he's just _dead_ and doesn't have to worry about the consequences of his actions. That and his newfound ghost powers.

Thomas has lost count of the number of times he's found Alexander's head in his closet, various parts of the kitchen, and on one memorable occasion the medicine cabinet in the ground floor's bathroom.

"What's it like?" Thomas asks him one afternoon while making a pot of his homemade macaroni and cheese.

Alexander rolls his eyes. "Very specific. Come on, use your words, Tommy."

"You know what I mean." Thomas waves the wooden spoon around in the air. "Being dead."

That makes Alexander pause, the fond smile dropping from his face as his brows furrow in thought. He's silent for a moment before turning slightly to glare at the concoction on the stove. "You know that stuff tastes like shit, right?" he quips. "You never did know how to cook."

Thomas swings the spoon at him. Of course, it phases right through him, but he hopes he still makes his point.

Alexander just ends up shrugging. "I guess it's not so bad. I mean, it definitely could be worse: I don't have to eat anymore." He shoots a pointed look at the pot. "Don't have to sleep, either."

Thomas snorts. "Bet you just love that. You never wanted to sleep before--always up writing something, weren't you?"

"Not anymore." Alexander's face really falls now and Thomas feels a little guilty. "When I said I'm not exactly tangible, I wasn't lying. Sure, I still get all these ideas, but I can't pick up a pen or paper to write them down. They're all just... stuck up here." He taps his temple a couple times. Thomas doesn't say anything in response and goes back to stirring the macaroni before it starts burning at the edges of the pot.

Alexander shoulder-bumps him, or would have if he could still touch things. Instead Thomas' shoulder just gets _really_ cold and he shivers. "But hey, like I said, I don't have to eat anymore. At least I don't have to eat whatever crap you manage to mix together." He's trying to lighten the mood, and Thomas just barely feels his lip quirk upwards in the beginning of a smile. "There he is. Come on, let's finish this garbage and feed it to James."

* * *

  _"Not anymore."_

* * *

 "You're getting too close," James warns him one evening.

Thomas turns the page in the book he's reading. "Oh?" he hums, not really paying attention. "You'll have to be more specific, Jemmy dear."

"Don't play dumb, Thomas," James snaps. Thomas looks up from the book to see James glaring daggers at him, fire in his eyes. "You know as well as I do how dangerous this whole thing is. You have to _stop."_

Thomas closes the book and sets it on the table next to his chair. "Personally, I think you're overreacting," he shoots back. "We were close when he was alive; I'm only continuing that friendship now like the good person I am."

"Didn't you two break up back then?"

Thomas winces at the reminder. "Yes, we did," he concedes. "But that was then. We both made some mistakes--I in particular made a few spectacularly idiotic ones."

James scoffs. "Ain't that the truth."

_"However,"_ Thomas continues, ignoring the interruption, "we're working on it. We're in a good place right now. I'm not throwing it all away just because you're acting a little paranoid."

"Fine!" James throws his hands up in resignation. "Fine. Have it your way. Just don't come crying to me when it all blows up in your face."

"Trust me, I won't."

"I'll say this once: you're making a mistake."

Thomas rises abruptly, leaving the book forgotten on the table. "Goodnight," he spits as he passes James on his way out of the living room. He stomps up the stairs like a pouting child and tries not to regret it.

* * *

  _"Look into my eyes._  
_Tell me I'm wrong."_

* * *

 It all starts going downhill two days later. _It always starts with a normal day, doesn't it?_ Thomas thinks.

It does. Today is like any other when the whole house hears an ear-splitting scream. Thomas almost falls out of his chair in shock and still manages to hit the ground running, taking the stairs two at a time. The bathroom door is swung wide open and Thomas skids to a stop to see James collapsed on the floor against the bathtub, his chest heaving in pants and his eyes blown wide in terror. Standing in front of him is Alexander, brows furrowed in thought. He looks up as Thomas appears and for a moment Thomas thinks his expression is downright murderous.

Then the look disappears and is replaced by one of confusion and panic. "I-I don't know--what--" Alexander stammers, in a rare occasion where he's at a loss for words.

James picks himself up off the floor and moves behind Thomas. "You lying bastard," he snarls once Thomas is firmly between the two of them. "Don't play dumb. You know exactly what you did!"

Alexander's eyes are wide and hopeless. "Thomas, you gotta believe me--I didn't--"

"Shut up!" James screams. "You're _lying!"_

Thomas takes a step away from James and holds his hands up. _"Calm down,_ you two," he orders, trying to keep his voice from trembling. James _never_ raises his voice unless something serious happened, and Thomas is starting to feel like a spooked rabbit. "I'm sure whatever happened was just an accident--"

"Of course!" Alexander exclaims at the same moment James says, "As if!"

_"--however,_ I'm also sure we can put this little incident behind us, right?" Thomas glances between them, James still seething and Alexander just... staring at him. His face is strangely blank. "Right?"

Alexander nods, his face still blank. "Of course," he says again. He turns his gaze to James. "Truce?"

James hmphs and nods. He pulls Thomas away from Alexander and murmurs, "Stay far away from him, okay?"

Thomas reels back. "What the hell, Jemmy?" he snaps, shock giving way to anger.

James sighs, looking more weary than anything. "Just be careful, all right? He's not what he says he is." Thomas notes the usage of the word _what_ instead of _who_ but before he can say anything James has already taken off down the stairs.

"Thomas?" Alexander's meek voice sounds from behind him. Thomas turns back and sees his eyes almost brimming with tears. "You believe me, right? You know I'd never do anything to hurt any of you."

Thomas takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair, and nods. "I know," he sighs, wishing with all his heart that Alexander was tangible so he could comfort him properly. Instead, all he can do is nod again and repeat, "I know."

* * *

  _"...You know I can't do that."_

* * *

 "What do you mean, you're _leaving?"_

Aaron zips his suitcase closed and sets it on the floor, backpack slung over one shoulder. "I think James has a point," he says carefully. "It's not safe here. Not anymore."

Thomas lets out a breathy laugh. "You would take his side," he mumbles under his breath, hopefully not loud enough for Aaron to hear. If he does, he shows no sign of it. Louder, he continues, "Alex isn't _dangerous,_ you guys are probably just imagining things. Y'know, haunted house, of course strange stuff is bound to happen!"

"You didn't see what I saw." Aaron's voice has not gotten any louder, but it suddenly gets deadly serious. His eyes are dark. "Me and James both. I'm leaving before things get any worse around here."

"You saw something too?" Thomas hadn't heard anything about _this._ "When?"

Aaron scoffs. "You really have your priorities sorted, don't you?" He pushes past Thomas and out into the hallway, making his way to the stairs.

Thomas scrambles after him. "Aaron, wait--"

Aaron spins around to face him again. If looks could kill, Thomas would be dead on his feet right now. "You don't get it." He lets out a half-hearted, humorless laugh. "I don't think you ever will. James was right: you're in over your head. Get out while you still can, Jefferson." Thomas doesn't say anything in response, just watches as Aaron walks out the front door.

* * *

  _"I do know it."_

* * *

 He gets a text from Theodosia the next day. It's fairly innocent, just a simple question.

_Have you seen Aaron?_

Thomas shoots back that he hasn't since yesterday when he booked it, then tosses his phone on the table and looks back at his book. The words are swimming on the page.

Theodosia arrives three hours later demanding to speak to Aaron. "I told you, he left," Thomas explains impatiently. If Aaron had disappeared off the face of the planet, it would be too soon.

"And I'm telling you, he never came home." Theodosia shoves past him into the hall, leaving Thomas to hold the door open.

"He probably went to a bar somewhere to blow off some steam," Thomas tries, swinging the door closed. "He was in a pretty pissy mood when he left yesterday."

Theodosia turns on him. For such a small person, she can be pretty intimidating. "How often have you known _Aaron Burr_ to frequent bars?"

"Point," Thomas concedes. "If it makes you feel better, I'll let you go through the whole house looking for him, if only to prove he's _not here."_ Theodosia nods, not looking satisfied but not willing to complain about that liberty. She scans the entire first floor in under a minute and starts making her way upstairs. "The room at the end of the hall was his."

Thomas doesn't follow her up, instead going into the kitchen to find something to snack on.

"What's Theo doing here?" Alexander asks, appearing suddenly next to Thomas. It's been days and Thomas still jumps a little out of his skin every time it happens.

"She's looking for Aaron," Thomas explains. "She doesn't believe me when I say he left."

"Knowing you, neither would I." Thomas throws a cracker at Alexander's head. It flies straight through and taps against the cabinets before falling to the floor, and both of them laugh.

Then there's the screaming. "Theo?" Thomas yells. He ends up upstairs without realizing he's bolted and he stands outside of what was once Aaron's room. The closet doors are thrown open, but Thomas can't see inside from his place at the door. Theodosia is on her knees on the floor, with Peggy on one side rubbing her shoulders and Eliza on the other side murmuring things in her ear. Theodosia's hands cover her face, but Thomas can still see the tears.

Thomas glances at James, looking for an explanation. James just shakes his head. "They found Aaron" is all he says.

In the corner of the room, Alexander watches, his expression dark.

* * *

  _"Prove it to me."_

* * *

 Aaron's body is taken away by the police later that day. Thomas hides away on the little balcony at the back of the house while statements are taken from the other members of the house. Part of it is because he doesn't like police. Part of it is because he can't bear to see the rope burns or the dark bruises on Aaron's neck.

God, he feels like throwing up.

"Did you know?" he asks, because he can tell Alexander is nearby. He can feel the familiar cold rush of wind. "Did you know what he did?"

"Yes." Alexander's voice is so cold and blunt it makes Thomas flinch. "I knew."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I'm a ghost, not a god," Alexander snaps bitterly. "By the time I knew something was wrong, it was too late."

"He was there for a day. You could have said _something."_ Alexander says nothing to that so Thomas stops asking. He can feel the cold growing as Alexander sits--floats, whatever--next to him, legs swinging over the edge. For a minute, neither of them speak.

"Do you see him?" Thomas asks hesitantly. "Like, on the other side? As a ghost?" Alexander doesn't respond immedately, keeping his gaze straight in front of him. Thomas doesn't ask again. The silence lasts for several minutes before Alexander answers.

"No."

* * *

  _"How?"_

* * *

 Aaron's funeral is very small. Most of his family is already gone, so the crowd is mainly the others in their group at the house and Theodosia. Alexander doesn't come to the funeral.

"You still think nothing's going on with him?" James asks when they get back to the house. Thomas sighs and shakes his head, heading straight up to his bedroom and closing the door behind him. He flops on the bed and stays there for the rest of the day, Alexander laying next to him.

* * *

  _"You know how."_

* * *

 Over the next few days, Thomas and James don't speak, but Thomas can tell something is seriously getting to him. He's gotten quieter than usual--which is concerning, considering it's James. He's also sleeping less and pacing the halls at night. Thomas asks Alexander if he knows anything about it, since he always seems to know everything happening in the house, but Alexander has nothing to say.

Thomas corners ames in the kitchen one morning before breakfast. "What's been going on with you?" he asks a little more harshly than he probably should have. Alexander, sitting on the counter next to them, snickers and James' eyes go wide. His fingers start twitching nervously so Thomas glares at Alexander and jerks his head toward the doorway, a gesture to leave. Alexander holds his hands up in surrender and disappears. James visibly relaxes, his shoulders slumping.

Thomas takes a couple steps back and takes his friend in entirely. James appears to have lost a couple pounds and there are heavy, dark bags under his bloodshot eyes. The first thought that pops into Thomas' head is that he looks a lot like Alexander did when he was alive.

Pushing that thought aside, Thomas leans against the opposite counter and crosses his arms over his chest. "You wanna tell me what's been eating you?" James gives him a look, and Thomas almost feels physical pain at how _tired_ his friend looks. "Jemmy?" he tries, his voice surprisingly timid.

James stares at him warily, then gives in. "I've been having... nightmares recently," he admits.

Thomas leans forward in anticipation. "About?" he prods gently.

"You won't like it."

"Doesn't mean I can't listen." James doesn't crack a smile at that, so Thomas hefts himself onto the countertop. "Try me."

"They're about Alexander."

* * *

 " _Say it."_

* * *

 Thomas comes home from his most recent grocery outing to an empty house. Since Aaron's death the others had been filtering out gradually, going back to their own lives. Maria had been the last one to leave, gently wishing them good luck. James and Thomas are the only ones still living in the house--not counting Alexander since he's pretty dead. His presence makes the house less lonely, but it's still freezing all the time.

Setting the groceries down on the kitchen table, Thomas sets out on his search for James. He knows that his friend has nowhere to go and thus must still be in the house somewhere. His search brings him to the second floor ouside a closed bathroom door. He knocks on the door softly. "Jemmy, you okay in there?"

It takes a moment before he gets a response. "'M fine," he hears James mumble weakly through the door.

Thomas hesitates before saying, "If you need anything just call." With that, he heads back downstairs to unpack and put away the groceries.

"Are you in a mood?" Alexander asks when Thomas is about halfway through his task. Thomas doesn't answer immediately, causing Alexander to blow out a low whistle. "Damn, you must _really_ be in a mood. You and Jemmy get into a fight recently that I don't know about?"

"I think James is sick," Thomas snips, more to try and get Alexander to shut up for a moment than to admit something is bugging him. He doesn't say anything else and puts a box of cereal away.

"Well, I _knew_ that," Alexander whines, twisting himself until he's laying on his back midair and looking upside down at Thomas. "I just hoped it was something _jucier_ that poor Jemmy's health issues. You two have been really boring these past few days, you know that?"

Thomas almost drops the jug of milk he's putting in the refrigerator. "What did you say?"

"I said you two are really boring."

"No, before that." Thomas can feel a knot of anger welling deep in his gut. "About James' health?"

"Oh, that? Just that I knew about him being sick." His tone is so casual it's as if he's talking about the weather. He doesn't even bat an eye.

Thomas closes the refrigerator and plants his hands firmly on the edge of the counter. "You need to start _telling_ me these things," he says lowly, not looking at Alexander.

Alexander shrugs. It looks weird, considering his current position. "It's pretty obvious. I figured you already knew."

"Still. We need to _communicate."_

That causes Alexander to make a face. "Fine. Sorry," he snaps. Thomas nods in acknowledgement. They fall silent until Thomas finishes with the groceries. They don't talk even as Thomas heads to the living room and starts piling wood into the fireplace and lights a small fire. The house has been particularly cold lately; Thomas isn't sure if it's just the approaching winter or if Alexander has anything to do with it.

Thomas sits huddled in a blanket in front of the growing fire ten minutes later when Alexander settles next to him. The cold he brings with him makes Thomas shiver and pull the blanket tighter around himself. "I'm sorry about earlier," he says softly. "You were right. I should've told you when I found out."

"Alexander Hamilton? Apologizing?" Thomas scoffs incredulously. "Never thought I'd live to see the day." Alexander mimes bumping their shoulders together, but due to intangibility Thomas' shoulder just phases through his own. In all seriousness, he continues, "Maybe I'm just overreacting, but after the whole thing with Aaron, and now James..." He trails off, his shoulders slumping.

"No, I get it." Alexander draws his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs, staring into the fire. Thomas wonders if he can feel the heat at all. He wonders, not for the first time, if Alexander can feel anything in general. Not for the first time, he doesn't ask.

* * *

  _"I love you."_

* * *

 They sit there staring at the fire until Thomas' eyes start burning. He blinks repeatedly and looks away to realize that it's almost dark outside. It was light when he got home.

James.

_"Shit,"_ Thomas snarls under his breath. He throws the blanket off his shoulders and shoots to his feet, already making his way to the stairs. Alexander, still sitting in his spot on the floor, stares after him in shock.

"Thomas--"

"I forgot James," Thomas shoots at him in explanation as he bolts up the stairs. The bathroom door is still closed. Thomas knocks furiously on the wood. "Jemmy, you still in there?" No response. Not a noise from beyond the door. Thomas turns sideways and slams his shoulder into the door. "James, answer me!" Still no response. Thomas slams into the door again, feeling it start to creak under the pressure but still not giving. He fumbles through his pockets for something to pick the lock with. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alexander standing behind him. "Go-go make sure he's okay," he begs, his voice shaking.

Alexander disappears. Thomas just hopes he's behind the door.

He finds a bobby pin--where the hell did that come from?--and fumbles with the lock. His hands are almost shaking too hard for him to get the pin in the lock at all, never mind trying to pick it, and it ends up taking a lot longer than it should to get the door open.

The scene he's greeted with is far from whatever Thomas had expected. In the low light filtering in from the window, he sees Alexander standing over the bathtub, staring down at it with an absolutely _murderous_ expression. Just over the edge of the tub sits a hand, terrifyingly still. There are tiny pieces of frost forming on the skin.

"No," Thomas mumbles. His knees shake and give out and he falls to the floor, crawling to the edge of the tub. "No, no, no no no _no--"_ He reaches into the water to hook his arms under James' and try hefting out of the icy water. He only manages to get his friend into a sitting position, but that has to be better than nothing, right? "Come on, Jemmy, this isn't funny. Wake up." His voice is getting desparate now, and tears are threatening to spill over.

James still isn't waking up. A sob rips itself through Thomas' chest and he does his best to cradle the cold body to his chest. _Not him, not now, not like this, not like Aaron--_

_Aaron._

Thomas looks up at that thought. His eyes meet Alexander's as he rises to full height. "What happened?" he demands, his voice still thick.

Alexander's eyes go wide in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Alexander protests. "When I got in here he was already gone--"

_"Don't fucking lie to me!"_ Thomas screams, startling Alexander into silence. "You know damn well this wasn't an accident!"

"I figured that much. He obviously planned this--"

"You," Thomas cuts him off, his voice little more than a growl. _"You_ planned this. He told me about the dreams, you know." Alexander blinks, but he doesn't seem surprised to hear this, so Thomas takes a deep breath and keeps going. "He told me time and time again to stay away, that this whole--" he gestures vaguely between the two of them "--whatever we have is dangerous. Aaron said it, too. He was right, they both were..." He trails off, not sure what to say next. Alexander's neutral expression hasn't faltered. "God, you planned this right from the beginning, didn't you?"

Alexander smiles at him, and it's so sweet it makes Thomas want to hurl. "Oh, Tommy," he croons, "you haven't even figured out what the beginning _is."_ Thomas blinks and opens his mouth, probably to ask, when Alexander's head suddenly whips backward, followed by the rest of his body staggering backwards. After a few seconds he straightens up, and Thomas screams.

Square in the middle of Alexander's forehead is a bullet hole, already dripping blood down his face. Further down a red blotch begins to stain the shirt in front of his stomach. The wall behind him is splattered with blood and Thomas thinks he sees other things there and that's enough to make him actually retch.

The memory hits him while he's down. _The gas station. James and Aaron. Alexander standing up and trying to talk him down. Thomas almost lowering his gun. The shot cracking from behind him. His finger twitching reflexively, another crack--_

Thomas glances up and sees Alexander staring down at him. His face is streaked with blood, enough it's dripping off his nose and chin onto the floor and onto Thomas' hands. He frantically rubs at the spots, but when he pulls his hands apart there is no smear, no blood. Two more red spots start welling up on Alexander's chest.

_"Do you remember now?"_

Sobs tear through Thomas' chest until they hurt and he's coughing more than crying by the time he manages to straighten himself again. Alexander is still staring down at him, his eyes strangely calm. He doesn't look angry or resentful, like Thomas would expect him to; no, he is eerily quiet, letting Thomas process this for himself. Thomas isn't sure if this is mercy. "I-I remember," he finally manages to get out.

Alexander smiles again and beckons for Thomas to rise, which Thomas finds himself doing. "Good. I'll guess you know what's happening, then."

Thomas has a vague idea, but he still finds himself asking, "Why?"

Now there's _laughter._ "Did you ever think me the kind of person that would go quietly?" No, Thomas didn't, and the fact that Alexander is _joking_ right now only proves it.

They stay like that for a while, the blood gradually soaking through all of Alexander's clothes and pooling on the floor at his feet. Thomas lets out a wet sigh. "So what comes next?"

Alexander stares at him as if the answer is obvious. "You write a note."

"A note?"

"A note." Alexander nods. "You write a confession. Then you make the call. Then we wait."

* * *

  _"Say it back to me."_

* * *

 

Thomas doesn't remember writing the note. He doesn't remember making the call to the police either. He doesn't remember coming to the roof. Yet he knows that all those things are done, and now he's standing on the roof with flashing red and blue lights beneath him. He hears people below yelling things at him, but he can't make out what they're saying.

He's standing close enough to the edge that he can lean over and feel like he's flying.

He wonders distantly if the note he left was a suicide note. He wonders who will read it first.

Alexander stands in front of him, his feet level in the air. The blood is gone from his clothes and the bullet hole is no longer in his head. He looks surprisingly like he did when he was alive.

He reaches out with one hand toward Thomas. "Are you coming?"

Thomas eyes the hand warily.

Alexander rolls his eyes. "Come on, just take it. It won't bite, you know." He sounds so much like _before._

Thomas takes his hand. He feels the ice beneath his palm and looks up at Alexander in shock. "How--"

"There's a lot of things you don't know, Tommy." Alexander smirks at him, mischievous as always. "Walk with me."

Thomas takes that first step and falls.

* * *

  _"I love--"_

**Author's Note:**

> this started as a comedy what happened  
> it's probably rly ooc and kinda shit but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> hmu @[tumblr](sammki.tumblr.com)


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